A general paesana of interest, regarded as one of the founding fathers of the not so democratic republic of congo.
Hails from an Spanish/Italian family and is survived by his liquid based sister kit-kat, who is one of the worlds foremost experts in aerospace engineering. His ancestry is questionable at best, and his childhood is shrouded in mystery. Some believe him to be descended from a long line of peasants. Some believe he has a life sized golden beluga whale statue on his roof gazebo, but needless to say, his garden could use improvement. One indisputible fact the CIA has been able to uncover is his inherent yiddishness, which causes him to sit in the synagogue all fucking day, staring straight ahead, and not saying a fucking word until the sun rises on the sabbath. He calls it Yom Kippur Another interesting fact is the big long hairs on top of his head, which he feeds indirectly into the running fanbelt. When the echo of a distant time comes willowing across the sand, broccoli rob is overpowered by an unrelenting force, directly. I always said he'd come to no good in the end, your honor. If they had let me have my way i would have flayed him into shape, but my hands were tied, and the bleeding hearts of artists allowed him to get away with murder, and I would be delighted to hammer him into the ground today.
Broccoli Rob's car suffers from an acute case of inaccurate Judaism.